


Too Little Too Late

by UghIzaya



Category: Durarara!!
Genre: Angst, Depression, Drug Use, Drugs, Heavy Angst, Izuo - Freeform, M/M, Oh My God, Shizaya - Freeform, Suicide, What Have I Done, im so sorry, why
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-09-23
Updated: 2015-09-23
Packaged: 2018-04-23 02:23:53
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,805
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4859510
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/UghIzaya/pseuds/UghIzaya
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Izaya Orihara loved humans.  He loved all of humanity despite being hated in return.  Or... was it really the case?  When it boiled down to it, Izaya Orihara was truly lonely, and how exactly does one deal with these uncontrollable emotions?  Perhaps you just...don't.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Too Little Too Late

Izaya Orihara was a man who could be described as many different things by many different people, and very few of those things, if any, were pleasant. He was used to the cold looks, the hostility and the insults thrown at him daily, and yet still claimed to love existing, to love humanity itself. He had been called despicable, a flea, the lowest kind of human there was, and yet still he claimed that it was fine, that he didn't care what anyone thought of him.

His very existence became dependant on the mask he had built for himself. A persona built of lies, tricks and deceiving, one that wore a pretty curve on its lips and held a mocking tone at all times.

Oh how he hated it all.

Izaya Orihara found himself sitting alone at his desk, hating the loneliness, hating the late night blackness that enveloped him, hating humanity and most of all, hating his very existence. He did nothing but stare directly at the contents of his hand, lightly shaking. Perhaps it was because of the cold air in his large apartment, which always seemed empty no matter how much he tried to fill it with, or perhaps it was due to nerves. It is true that Izaya Orihara, the man who could single handedly take on Shizuo Heiwajima, the strongest man in Ikebukuro, and emerge with only a few scratches, was in this moment of time at the most vulnerable he'd ever been in his lifetime.

It all began as a young child. His parents were busy business people, always travelling, never having enough time to take care of their only child. He was quiet in his classes, always better off observing than taking part, and as a result not having any friends either. He was not hated by anyone, yet not outwardly loved either. As he got older, he gained enemies, rivals, people who hated how he lived his life and people who hated him personally, but still no one who openly loved him, not even his younger sisters who were later born into his family. He even met Shizuo Heiwajima in high school and they tried to kill each other the first time they met, truly hating each other.

At this point, he began manipulating people with information he gathered from observing, yet still, he only gained more enemies, death threats, angry glares and unsettling language thrown at him daily. Even when he claimed to openly love all of humanity in the hopes that someone, anyone could love him too, all he ever found was hate and spite.

Izaya Orihara was lonely. He wanted to love so desperately, and yet he was afraid of getting hurt by opening up to one of his 'precious' humans and getting rejected and trampled on. He tried to live in the world by loving everyone as a way of avoiding personal relationships while still having interactions with people he 'loved', but the loneliness was far too much to bear, and it was impossible to ignore the undeniable truth that had become evident to Izaya. He despised humanity almost as much as he despised himself. He resented the fact that he was a coward, that he was too afraid to pursue the one thing that would give his life the meaning he needed, that he couldn't even accept the fact that he loved one human more than anyone, letting his pride get in the way of every opportunity to redeem himself in the eyes of others. He hated people, but was dependant on their acceptance, a side of himself that he never let slip to anyone.   He had no true friends to turn to, no one that he trusted. It was a sad and lonely life, one with many dangers and threats to his life. He had had enough of this love-hate relationship he had with the entire human race. It wasn't even bittersweet anymore.   Only the bitterness remained, harming everyone involved with no one emerging victorious.

He chuckled to himself, laughing at his own expense. It was salty, in that he couldn't truly laugh anymore. He was full of fear and regret, tears threatening to spill onto his pale cheeks. He really had reached an all time low, and all he could think about was the person most dear to him, who just happened to be the person he hated the most.

Shizuo Heiwajima.

When they were younger, it had been a matter of pride. Izaya looked down on Shizuo, and couldn't accept his own one-sided feelings. They were not developed feelings of affection, and so surely would disappear. When they did not, he decided to confront him for the first time, and attempted to take his life in order to accelerate the rate at which his feelings would leave him.

He should never have met with Shizuo Heiwajima.

The young Izaya found himself shaking in exhilaration, running purely on adrenaline. He was ecstatic after having such an eventful first meeting with the object of his affections, and from that moment onwards he truly did experience love. He fell in love with the chase, running from the monstrously strong teen. Hearing him angrily call his name made him almost weak at the knees.

He loved it.

He loved him.

What he hated was the inability to control his own feelings.

He hated what Shizuo Heiwajima could do to him, what he could make him feel. He didn't want any of it, and yet he relished it.

As he grew older however, it was no longer pride or love for the chase that prevented Izaya from coming to terms with his feelings. It was fear. Izaya was terrified of what that love would mean for him, what the consequences would be and what would happen if something went wrong. Even worse, he couldn't imagine what he would do if he laid himself bare, opened up to someone and had his love, his everything rejected. He couldn't bear that pain, the pain that would surely come to him if he opened himself up to his 'Shizu-chan'. Somewhere along the way however, the pain of being alone, of thinking about that love that would never be fulfilled, became worse than the pain he would experience in rejection.

It truly was unbearable.

Now, Izaya was sitting alone in his office, hating all of humanity, himself, and yet always thinking of Shizuo, his overwhelming love that caused him to hate, and finally allowing the tears that had built up to follow their journey along his face, silently, forcing himself not to sob or utter any sound that would make him appear weaker than he already was to the audience of nothing but shadows. His eyes were fixed on the contents of his shaking hands and he was afraid, afraid of what he was about to do.

He swivelled his chair around and started a new email. He simply typed in the email address that he wanted to contact, and stared at the white screen for a few minutes, thinking. His breathing was irregular as he cried in silence, and the only other sounds that could be heard were the cars in the street below him and the ticking of a clock.

He knew he was praying for a miracle, but part of him wished that he'd receive a message from his phone or email, a new chat log, anything to distract him so that he could conveniently forget about what he was about to do, but nothing arrived. No one knocked at his door, no one called, no one wanted to see or hear from him.

No one would truly miss him if he was gone. Not one person. Perhaps he'd slightly upset his sisters but even then he did not believe that they'd really mourn his disappearance, the loss of life that had occurred in their own family tree.

The word was ringing in his head like an alarm constantly, and it was time to put it out. He thought back to all of the suicidal people that he'd manipulated, that he'd prevented from dying, that he'd looked down on and laughed at as he opened the bottle he gripped tightly in his hand. As he choked down the first pill, he told himself that he could turn back but his arms kept moving. The second pill went down, and he begged himself to stop. The third, and he began to cry out loud and shake violently. He kept swallowing the small tablets until he could feel himself slipping. A total of seven pills. There was no chance of survival.

Izaya Orihara was dying by his own hand.

He quickly turned to that empty email he had started earlier, and began furiously typing, ignoring all spelling and grammar errors. By the end, it was hardly readable, but Izaya didn't care. All he had to do was press send, but he couldn't keep his eyes open for much longer, his body going numb and the words he was mumbling to himself as incoherent as his thoughts. One press of a button and the email was gone. He held down the power button to shut down his computer and gave it a violent shove, or as violent as he could manage, and pushed it off of his desk in the hopes that it would break and lose all of his work so that it wouldn't get out to the police. Even if it didn't break, he was past caring.

Pushing himself off of his desk chair, he found himself hitting the ground before he could even reach the couch. As he lay on the cold floor, loosing body heat and watching the tears drip off of his face, he hated how pathetic he had become, how vulnerable, succumbing to nothing but his own fears and desires. His last thoughts were on the email he had just sent, searching for peace in the words he had written.

To: shizu0@yahoo.co.jp

Cc: _blank_

Subject: I;m sorry

im sp sorryu shizuichan bc imn a cowerd

i wish thgings had been differntt between us i wisj

im so vlonelu szhiuio pllesas dodont hhate me dfor evevrything ivee done too you i know i treated uoi like sn nasshole ik ept pusgihng youo constanntly and its my fault but please dont hateg me anymore i jusy awnt yiour acceptancr plwease plwese plalsw plaesze plaese

i love youiu

-ixaya oriharea

* * *

The only thing that could be heard from his apartment the next morning were the frantic screams of Namie Yagiri, begging the cowardly man to wake up for work, to take responsibility. No matter how much she screamed at him, no matter how many of her terrified tears fell onto his limp body, he would not stir.

Izaya Orihara was dead.

**Author's Note:**

> I'm sorry.
> 
> I hope the standard of writing was okay, I haven't written for enjoyment for a year or two now, and I'm only just getting back into the swing of things. There will be another part to this. Maybe a third, if I can get my creative juices flowing.


End file.
